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I came to
my office on June 5, 2015 and found a note on my chair. It said, “Dr. J. Luke
Wood is looking for you. Give him a call at…” I recognized the handwriting and
went to find my colleague with the distinct print. Why would Dr. J. Luke Wood
be looking for me and why did he contact my colleague? Confused, I asked my
colleague, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Minutes later, I dialed the
number on the post-it note. That was the beginning of a whirlwind three years
of my doctoral program.

A month
earlier, I had attended an Equity Summit at a local hotel in Carlsbad hosted by
my college’s Student Success governance committee. The keynote speaker was Dr.
J. Luke Wood of San Diego State University (SDSU). He also happened to be the
Director of the SDSU Ed.D.
program. He discussed his latest research on men of color in community
college. I remember how this was the first time I had heard of such research
and felt excited to learn more. After the presentation, a colleague introduced
me to him. I expressed interest in Dr. Wood’s research. He asked me, “Have you
considered getting a doctorate degree?” I replied, “You know, I applied back in
2009 and was accepted to the program, but because I had just been offered a
full-time tenure track position and had a newborn son, in consultation with my
partner we decided I could only do one or the other.” I continued, “At the
time, getting paid was the logical choice.” To that, he retorted, “Would you
apply again?” Was he calling my bluff? I felt the pressure to say yes. I
jokingly replied, “Would I have to take the GRE again?” It had been 10 years
since I had taken the GRE and the anxiety lingered. After what seemed several
moments of thought, he surprisingly said, “No.” Our conversation ended with me
saying with a smile, “Okay, then I’ll think about applying next year.”

I identify
as Latino, specifically Ecuadorian, and as male. I am mixed racially, Black and
white. I grew up in Minnesota, only knowing Ecuador through my childhood home
on Main St. in the suburb of Columbia Heights. I spoke Spanish and learned
English as an ESL student in the local public school. The local parochial
school would not accept me if I did not speak English. My mother, white and
college educated, and my father, middle school educated and Afro Ecuadorian,
lived on welfare for most of my youth. What they lacked in material wealth,
they made up for in cultural and moral richness. My parents were musicians and
social justice change agents. They organized and educated the community around
social justice issues. They valued the dignity and worth of every human being, and
especially fought for the most marginalized. I embraced their values, and these
have been challenged every day of my life. I experience life as a brown man in
a society that sees me as inferior, despite my intelligence and credentials.
This is my worldview.

The year
2019 marks my twentieth year working in higher education. In my first six
years, I worked in private and public four-year colleges and universities,
specifically with students of color and first-generation college students. In
particular, I directed a federally funded program called TRIO
Upward Bound Math and Science for three and a half years. We promoted STEM
and higher education to high school students in San Diego and Imperial counties
who were low income and would be first-generation college students. Given the
borderland context, the majority of the students were Latinx.
As a requirement of the federal funding, we had to track students from High
school graduation through bachelor’s degree achievement. All of my students
graduated from high school and the majority of them went straight to a
community college. I had no clue as to what this meant at the time. I had the
privilege of attending a private liberal arts college in the Midwest and
graduated in four years. I attended the public K-12 system in Minnesota and
only experienced a maximum of 500 students in my high school and only 1,800
students in college. When I first stepped foot on El Cajon High School’s campus
nearly 18 years ago and learned there were more than 2,000 students, I could
not believe it. Community colleges in San Diego county have varying sizes, but
many are between 10,000 and 20,000 students. Community colleges were known as
“2-year” colleges: a place where students could prepare to transfer to the
4-year college or university. Curiosity to learn more about why my students
continued to be at the community college beyond two years led me to earn a
master’s degree to become a counselor in California’s community colleges.

When I
first entered the community college world in 2006 as an adjunct counselor, the
big focus was on the basic skills initiative. I was very involved in many
innovative projects to support basic skills students. I began to understand the
trend I had been seeing in my TRIO data. Students, in particular, students of
color, low-income students, first-generation students, were stymied in the
community college through low English and/or math placement. They often started
two or three levels below what was required for successful attainment of an
Associate’s degree or transfer to a four-year college. Their journey became too
long and full of institutional and life obstacles.

I knew I
could do more as a full-time counselor to establish the necessary relationships
with students and colleagues to change the system. However, several counselors warned
me that it would be ten years before I was offered a full-time tenure track
position. I took that as a challenge. I hustled. At one point, I worked at five
different colleges and universities teaching and counseling. I looked at every
possible opportunity, including the newly created doctoral program at SDSU that
emphasized community college leadership. My life was converging upon itself: a
newborn son, a full-time faculty position, and admission to a doctoral program.
I made the right choice at the time. I now have two wonderful children that are
10 and 8 years old. I am tenured and I have held many leadership roles in my
department and institution. I am grateful for the growth in those six years
before the portal of the doctoral program reopened to me.

For four
of those first six years of full-time employment, I led the Puente Project, a transfer success
program based in culturally relevant teaching and culturally sustaining
pedagogy, emphasizing the Mexican American/Chicanx experience in California. I
witnessed first-hand the impact of culturally responsive curriculum on the
growth and development of Mexican American/Chicanx students. For many, this was
the first time they had a teacher who acknowledged their identity as a strength
for learning. It was the first for many things: first time reading Latinx,
Mexican American, or Chicanx authors; first time being taught by a Latinx
identified professor; and, first time being validated as college worthy
students. My college success course was taught in conjunction with an English
course as a learning community built on the foundation of a cultural community.
My Puente partner and I intentionally engaged with our students in each other’s
classrooms and outside the classroom, creating a community of support and “família-like”
community.

Meanwhile,
I also served as department chair for two and a half years. In this capacity, I
hired over 20 adjunct faculty. I also had the privilege of chairing four
full-time faculty search committees, resulting in seven hires in my department.
Lastly, I have served as a member on several search committees within my
department and outside my department, including committees for two vice
president searches, one dean, a math faculty, a computer science faculty, a
department secretary, and a student support specialist. I approached each of
these searches with curiosity, always seeking to hire people that could truly
support and understand the student diversity at the community college. I did
not have a word for it at the time, but now we refer to this as seeking
“equity-mindedness” in a candidate. That is, the ability to be culturally
responsive, social justice, and equity focused to support our most marginalized
students in achieving equitable outcomes.

In 2015,
when I saw Dr. J. Luke Wood’s presentation, I had an epiphany. As he talked
about better supporting our men of color, I asked myself, “Who are we hiring to
support our men of color?” What happens in the classroom begins with who we hire. Who we hire is dependent on the institution’s values, vision,
policies, leadership, and agents (e.g., the people involved in the hiring
process). This train of thought fueled my quick affirmative response to Dr.
Wood when he called me a month later. Coincidentally, the topic of diversifying
the faculty had also intrigued the state chancellor’s office in the fall of
2015, and later the Academic Senate for California Community Colleges in
subsequent years. My intuition was right on.

During the
first day of orientation for the doctoral program, we met all the faculty. We
spent about five minutes with each one for a “speed dating” activity, where we
introduced ourselves and our topic of interest. Most of the cohort were
interested in studying students; student athletes and transfer; foster youth in
community college; formerly incarcerated students; or Latinx students in STEM.
Two people were interested in studying leadership.

As I met
faculty members to explain my proposed topic, there was mostly mild to low
interest. My topic did not align with studying student success directly.
Fortunately, I was not dissuaded, and I found a dissertation chair that
believed in me. Dr. Felisha Villarreal Herrera, a newer faculty member, had
just started her third year at SDSU, but had previously been a tenured faculty
member elsewhere. While her focus was on Latinx students in STEM, she and I
found common ground as I developed my guiding theoretical lens, critical
race theory (CRT). I was fortunate to have her as my writing instructor in
my second year, where she helped and encouraged me to apply CRT to my topic. I
had heard from other classmates that other program faculty frowned upon the use
of CRT, so I felt very fortunate to have a mentor that understood my inquiry.

To start,
after the orientation, I embraced the daunting task of reviewing previous
scholarship. I started off broadly, looking at hiring practices in education,
hiring discrimination, racial discrimination, cultural competency, and implicit
bias. I found and applied articles from various fields including education,
business, sociology, social work, psychology, history, and law. I expanded my
literature review with every new article I read, exploring every branch of the
tree. The branch for higher education on hiring practices was thinner than the
branch for K-12. In comparison, the research on community college hiring
practices was a small twig.

I adopted
CRT as a guiding theoretical lens by which to analyze what I had gathered so
far. It provided a framework to understand discrimination in the hiring process.
While discrimination is multidimensional, I focused on racial discrimination
because it has been an enormous challenge over the last thirty years to
racially diversify the community college faculty. When we consider state and
federal non-discriminatory laws and affirmative action, it becomes even more
daunting to improve hiring outcomes. However, the more I read, the more
questions arose for me. Three years went by quickly. They were accompanied by
my institutional praxis and professional development throughout that period
that acted like fertilizer to my growth: the twig was going to get longer,
stronger.

The most
rewarding part of writing the dissertation was honoring my participants by
writing and sharing their lived experiences. I engaged in a phenomenological
inquiry and interviewed ten community college faculty of color who actively
advocate for hiring faculty of color on faculty hiring committees. The whole
process was emotional for me and the participants. They shared stories of what
they see as barriers in the hiring process and how they strategically disrupt
those barriers. I do this work for them and all the students of color who come
through our community colleges and who we hope to hire one day as faculty.

As I sat
on a wood stool to be hooded by Dr. Felisha Villarreal Herrera in May 2018, I
felt the weight of what I had embarked on, with my parents in the
audience—roots—and my partner and children cheering me on—future. When we first
started, I was told, “You will become the
expert, the one and only person who will know what you know. That is what it
means to be a doctor.” One year later in April 2019, I published an article
based on my dissertation in the prestigious Community
College Journal for Research and Practice. In this past year, I have
presented at state-wide sponsored events, presented at other community
colleges, and trained faculty and HR professionals. Am I an accidental doctor?
Given my origin story and professional experiences, this is not so accidental
but rather exactly what I need to do, when I needed to do it. I am
intentionally here to change paradigms, improve hiring outcomes, and create
equitable student success outcomes for our students of color.

Diversity, equity, and inclusion are often conflated. These are three separate concepts that are inextricably connected. Many leaders confuse these terms, treat them as one concept, or only focus on one at a time. A great leader will work on all three at the same time, understanding the nuances of how they interrelate, and engage in equity-minded practices. – June 2018

I want to further reflect on the
natural tensions between these three concepts.

More colleges are beginning to explicitly
value diversity, equity, and inclusion in mission statements and board
policies. Many are genuinely changing procedures and practices to transform their
institutions to truly reflect the diversity of their communities, create
equitable outcomes, and foster inclusivity. Few know how to achieve these goals:
move from written policy to social justice in action.

To better understand and acknowledge
the tension and often contradicting nature of these three concepts, we need to
apply a critical framework. For example, critical
race theory acknowledges that race and racism are ubiquitous and are problematized
even more when looking at the intersectionality of race with class, gender, sexual
orientation, and other identities; it challenges the dominant ideology; and it
centralizes the experiential knowledge of those who are oppressed. Applying
CRT, we can then ask interrogating questions to understand the complexity of
these terms. The current dominant ideology centers the white, heterosexual
male. It is through this dominant ideology that diversity, equity, and inclusion
are traditionally defined.

Diversity refers to representation
based on myriad individual/group identities (e.g., counting the population). We
should ask ourselves: As we add different people to the group, at what point is
the group diverse? How many women do we need? How many people of different
racial and ethnic backgrounds do we need? A common myth is that diversity is a
zero-sum concept. For example, if we were to hire more African Americans, then
this inevitably means we hire less of another racial group (i.e., white people
– those at the center). This misconception stokes fears of “reverse
discrimination” or “bias” from the dominant majority, which contradicts their own
orientation of inclusion. Proponents of diversity argue, as I do, that
representation needs to be responsive to historic and contemporary needs of the
community that is being served. For example, if your institution is designated
a Hispanic Serving Institution (HSI), and your Hispanic student population is
33%, then there should be at least a proportional representation in the
faculty, staff, and administration of that same demographic. By the way, a
white person actually asked me this question, “Does this mean the institution
should not hire more white people?” No. What it means is that the institution
should be gathering and evaluating data and being responsive to the rich diversity
of its community. Decisions will need to be made to increase the diversity of
faculty, staff, and administrators. Also, it may have been acceptable thirty
years ago to hire someone who is “sensitive” to diversity, but current equity
gaps and inclusion efforts require higher standards, beyond sensitivity.

Inclusion is the notion of welcoming
all people. It implies that “others” are “allowed” to participate. The dominant
group still controls the rules and the culture of the group or organization. However,
from a CRT perspective, it means that everyone in the community has a meaningful
opportunity to contribute to the decision-making and learning process. Thus, a
new ideology is created through a collaborative process, uplifting formerly
marginalized voices and experiences and centering them in the process. In
relation to hiring, being inclusive means that the composition of the search
committee not only has a meaningful representation of racial and ethnic
members, but that each of these members is respected and whose contributions
are validated and equally weighed alongside those of others (i.e., white members).
The token person of color on the search committee is indicative of a diversity
framework centered in the traditional definition of inclusion. An inclusion
framework expands on diversity to truly create the conditions and culture within
the search committee to allow for meaningful participation and perspective. For
example, an inclusion framework allows for a diversity of perspectives to
engage and challenge the dominant ideology, thus allowing a new and co-created
culture.

While diversity and inclusion can be
superficially achieved, it requires conscientious effort and action to achieve
equity (not to be confused with equality). The PolicyLink
research and action institute define equity as, “Just and fair inclusion into a
society in which all can participate, prosper, and reach their full potential.”
Equity work is about removing barriers. It is about possessing equity-minded
competencies such as being culturally competent, implementing race conscious
principles, analyzing disaggregated data, approaching equity systemically, and taking
responsibility as an institutional agent to remove barriers. In this respect,
equity-mindedness is a characteristic that can be learned; a skill that can be
assessed. Equity work leads to results that transform students, institutional
agents, and institutional structures. If we are looking to change inequities,
we need to apply an equity framework to address historic and contemporary issues
for our diverse student populations. This work is both individual (e.g.,
practices) and institutional (e.g., policies, procedures). This work can be
practiced by anyone, regardless of racial or ethnic background. Someone asked
me, “So, when it comes to hiring, does this mean that we don’t need to worry
about diversity? No. Although the concepts of diversity and equity are
seemingly different and contradictory, they in fact interact. For example,
while the race of an applicant should not be the determining factor of whether
they should be hired, a search committee that seeks equity-mindedness will more
likely hire a candidate that is not in the dominant majority (i.e., white)
based on equity-minded competencies.

In education we are very concerned with the performance of minoritized student groups. We tend to frame education through a liberal lens, where everyone is treated equally, and everyone has the same opportunities. Yet, the reality is that minoritized students are not experiencing the same outcomes. In another example, if we look at the racial diversity of faculty in higher education, we see that despite the commitment of colleges and universities to diversify their faculty, there is little success of the past several decades to significantly increase racial representation. In both cases, we frame the problem around diversity. That is, we blame the outcomes on the minoritized students and faculty. Dr. Estela Mara Bensimon makes the case to reclaim the racial justice meaning of equity, because this will allow us to reframe these racial issues through a racial action-oriented and systemic approach. She states that race is missing in equity conversations and definitions because leaders take an “ALL! Students matter” approach and avoid discussing race, even when the data clearly show a racial opportunity gap in outcomes.

While it is all the “buzz” to say “Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion,” think twice before you string these three words together. I have noticed that some college leaders have created the acronym DEI to further conflate these concepts, which ignores their tension, and simplifies their significance. We tend to create acronyms in higher education, which is detrimental in this case, if leaders do not fully comprehend these terms. Understand and acknowledge the tensions between these terms. The three concepts can coexist and help you achieve your goals, but there are too many misunderstandings around these concepts to effectively advance your mission. Clearly communicate the complex nature and relationship of these three concepts to your constituents. Utilize a critical framework to interrogate these concepts. Help everyone understand the differences between these concepts and how these three concepts will strengthen your capacity to serve your community.

Welcome to Lara Consulting, where you’ll perspectives on US higher education from the community college and the four-year university. Topics will include faculty hiring, undocumented students, cultural competency, and social justice. Feel free to contact us if you have questions about any of these topics. Our associates have a combined history of 38 years of experience working in higher education. – Lara Consulting